Harry Potter and the Trail of Memories
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: The summer before his sixth year, Harry becomes heir to the Black family estate. This means a return to Grimmauld Place and an interesting look at his godfather's past. Remus/Sirius Sirius/Bellatrix Bellatrix/Narcissa & kind of Tonks/OC
1. Leaving

**Harry Potter and the Room of Memories**

Harry had only been at the Dursley's for a week when he'd gotten the letters. One had been from Dumbledore, asking if the Headmaster might pick him up in a week (which was today) to take care of some official business. Harry had an idea of what that would be, and honestly he was in no mood to read Sirius's will. His suspicions had been confirmed with the second letter, from Tonks. She would be accompanying them on their business, "For extra protection, just in case," the letter had said.

Harry paced his room, listening intently for the doorbell. He'd long since packed everything, and was left with nothing to do but wait. He couldn't even talk to Hedwig, for she was delivering a letter to Ron. Finally, as his digital clock turned to 12:00, a light went out. Harry ran to the window and watched as, one by one, the street lamps were extinguished.

Two figures were coming up the street. One was tall, the other short. The short one tripped on the hem of her robes, but turned it into a cartwheel.

Harry grinned for the first time in weeks. He picked up Hedwig's cage and set it in the hallway. He took immense pleasure in pushing his trunk down the stairs, waking the whole house. He jumped down the stairs three at a time as the Dursleys emerged from their rooms and the doorbell rang.

"Who the devil is that at the door?" his uncle bellowed. "Potter, what are you doing?"

"Leaving," Harry said. He opened the door and found Tonks trying to pick the lock, and Dumbledore looking amused.

"I told you he'd be waiting for us, Nymphadora," Dumbledore said, allowing her to enter first.

"What's the point of knowing how to pick a lock if I never get to actually do it?" she complained. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hey Tonks, Professor," he said, nodding at them.

"Say your goodbyes, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "You won't be returning until next summer."

"See you," Harry said, and followed Tonks out to the sidewalk.

"You have your cloak?" she asked.

"Yeah…the letter said—"

"I know."

"What's he doing back there?" Harry asked. Dumbledore was still standing in the doorway, talking to the Dursleys. They looked quite terrified.

"I think he's having a go at your aunt and uncle. Ah, here he comes."

"Professor," Harry started, "Where are we going exactly?"

"Eventually, to Hogwarts. However, just at the present, we will be calling upon a friend." He led the two of them down the street and took out his Dilluminator. "You see, we once again have a vacancy in the staff. I'm hoping to fill that position."

"Tonight?" Tonks asked, yawning.

"Yes. I think you'll both be of great assistance." He unleashed the light he had collected and held out his arm. "If you'll both just take my arm. That's it."

Harry felt the awful sensation of being squeezed through a very long, thin straw. When he opened his eyes again, they were on a deserted London street. "Eurgh…" he moaned. "I just Apparated, didn't I?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Quite successfully, too. Most people vomit the first time."

"Can't imagine why. Tonks? What is it?"

She was staring back and forth between the buildings and Dumbledore. "You've got to be joking," she said.

"Not in the slightest."

"I thought you said you were going to get Slughorn!"

"He turned out to be rather more stubborn than I thought. In any case, I don't need him specifically to fill the post. I've had to do some rearranging, and this is the last stop on my list."

They walked up the steps to one of the buildings and Dumbledore shot a spell the call button. A moment later, a voice came through the speaker. "Come on up."

"She's American?" Harry asked.

"Extremely," Tonks muttered.

"Best behavior, Tonks."

* * *

The apartment looked like any other, except for the large Hogwarts crest that adorned the coffee table. The witch sitting on the couch looked like an older, less athletic version of Angelina Johnson. "When you said you were bringing friends, you didn't tell me they were famous," she said with a smile.

"Yes, well I was afraid you might run out on me, like dear Horace did," Dumbledore answered. "Harry, this is Morgana Williams. Hopefully Professor Williams soon…."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, shaking her hand.

"And you. Do you really need me to come back, Dumbledore?"

"Indeed. I understand that you're ready to…er…retire, from you American job."

"You can say that again. And how are you, Tonks?" Morgana asked, smirking.

"Lovely."

Dumbledore smiled. "Tonks and Morgana were at school together. One year apart, if I remember correctly."

"You were at Hogwarts?"

"Yep. Slytherin. Ah, don't give me that look," she said, grinning. "We're not all evil."

"We'll see you in September, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course."

"Wonderful! We shall leave you to enjoy your evening…er…morning."

Waving at his new professor, Harry followed Dumbledore out of the apartment.

* * *

The next day, Harry awoke to sunlight pouring onto his face. It took him a moment to remember that he was at Hogwarts again. As he sat up in bed, a hazy wolf floated down next to him.

"Wotcher, Harry. I'm to escort you down to the Great Hall. Breakfast will be served during the meeting. I'll meet you outside of the portrait hole."

Harry dressed slowly. He didn't want this moment to come. The reading of Sirius's will was just so…final. When he was finally ready, Tonks was waiting to take him to breakfast.

"Morning, sunshine," she said. "Did you even look at your hair?"

"You're turning into Mrs. Weasley, Tonks," Harry told her with a smirk.

Tonks laughed a little. "Sorry, it's just that the Minister gives me the willies—"

"Wait, the Minister? Scrimgeour?"

"Yes. He's here to read the will."

"Does he always…."

"No. He saw to this one personally because…well, you're famous, Sirius was famous…." She shrugged and continued walking. "Plus I think he wants to meet you."

Harry wasn't used to seeing the Great Hall so empty, even at Christmas. There were only five of them—the Minister, Dumbledore, Kingsley, Tonks and Harry.

Scrimgeour threw a nod in their direction as they walked in. "Are we ready to begin?" At their nods, he drew his wand and pointed it at his briefcase. A few sheets of parchment unfolded, and he put on a pair of thin spectacles. "Mr. Black's will is rather straightforward," he began. "'To my favorite cousin, Andromeda, I leave my Black family crests.' I understand that you will be accepting on behalf of your mother, Nymphadora?"

"Yes, sir."

Scrimgeour continued. "'To my godson, Harry, I leave my estate, including my house, wealth, and possessions. I also leave him my title—heir to the house of Black. In such a case as should arise if he is not of age, I, Sirius Phinneas Black, do hereby emancipate him from the guardianship of his relatives.'"

At this, Dumbldore flinched. The company's eyes turned on him. "I have a slight problem with that," he said.

"Problem or not, it is the will of his former guardian," Scrimgeour said.

Harry couldn't fight the feeling that Scrimgeour was trying to butter him up for something.

"Conditions regarding where he stays can be dealt with later," the Minister said. "However, as of right now, he has inherited all of the late Mr. Black's possessions and titles. Also, as he is now his own man, so to speak, he has officially come into his inheritance left by his parents."

"I've had that for years now," Harry said weakly.

Scrimgeour chuckled. "No, no, boy. You've had your money—money put away for your schooling. Your parents' fortune is far greater. It is kept in another vault—separate from your fortune. And you are now officially the head of the house of Potter as well. From this day forward, you are now Lord Potter-Black." The Minister signed a piece of paper and slid it towards Harry.

"I need some air," Harry said, and bolted for the door.


	2. Inheritance

***Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor***

"Mother!"

"What is it, Draco?"

"What's all this rubbish about me having to relinquish my Black Family coat of arms to a Lord Potter-Black? Do you know of any—" Draco trailed off as his mother snatched the letter from him. "And it says that the set of knives has to go too. Those are Auntie Bella's favorites!"

"You skipped over the important part to get to the part that affects you."

"That is the important part!"

"Be quiet, and read _Lord _Potter-Black's first name."

Draco's eyes skimmed the paper for a moment. Then he sneered. "They can't be serious!"

"They are. I suggest you take the shield off you wall, and go collect the—"

"But I don't want to! This is ridiculous!"

"Draco!" Narcissa snapped. "It is ordered by the Ministry! We're in enough trouble as it is. Now go!"

Draco's lip quivered. "Fine," he said, tremulously. Turning on his heel, he slumped his way up to his room.

* * *

"Tonks, I know you're there," Harry said, petting one of the Thestrals.

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"I heard you swear when you tripped a while back."

"Damn. Well, I was trying to give you some alone time, even though I really can't."

"I get it. Dumbledore wants me watched."

"He thinks I can relate to what you're feeling," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I miss Sirius. It's just that Dumbledore can be a bit…."

"Like a hippy sometimes?"

"Exactly. But, I have some good news."

"What's that?"

"I have permission to escort you to your house, and then to the Weasley's."

"What? I figured I'd be staying here the rest of the summer."

"No, Dumbledore thought you'd be happier with the Weasleys. He's sent your things along already."

"I want to go straight to the Weasley's," Harry said. "Not to Sirius's house."

Tonks sighed. "We have to, Harry. Dumbledore wants you to look it over."

"I've seen all I need to see of it," Harry said stubbornly.

"Suit yourself."

* * *

"You tricked me!" Harry yelped.

"Sorry, mate. Dumbledore's orders," Tonks said. She didn't look all too thrilled to be there either.

"What's he want me to do? Tidy up? Hang some pictures?"

"I think he thinks it'll being you some closure. Or maybe he just wants you to get used to the idea of owning a house. Who knows? But his instructions were to bring you here first."

Harry huffed and started up the stairs. He wandered aimlessly from room to room, hating the place more with every creak of the floorboards. Sirius hadn't wanted this place either. It had been just as much of a jail to him…. These thoughts distracted Harry so much that he failed to notice which room he'd just walked into. It was apparent in a heartbeat however. From the Gryffindor banners to the Muggle posters, this was Sirius's old room from top to bottom. In spite of himself, Harry smiled. It must've taken some serious guts to decorate your room with Muggle things with the family he'd had. Two closets stood to his left against the wall. One was normal, full of clothes and shoes and a few discarded books. The other held a rather odd reading desk. In the case, where books should have been, were shelves of little vials. Each was filled with a clear liquid of some sort. On the desk was...

"A Pensieve," Harry breathed. He opened the cabinet doors and ran his hand along the shelves. Each was marked by the period of Sirius's life. Harry picked up one from the "Hogwarts" shelf, but a hand closed around his before he could open it.

"You shouldn't," Tonks said from right behind him.

"Are you my shadow now?" Harry asked without turning around.

"Yes," she answered, putting her other hand on his shoulder. "Harry, Sirius had a…complicated life. You know that. There may be things—"

"Maybe," Harry said. "But I know there are things he would've told me if he were alive. He's not, so this is all I have."

Tonks squeezed his shoulder. "You do what you think is right then. I'll be downstairs."

When she'd left, Harry took the cork out of the vial and tipped the memory into the Pensieve. It filled the basin immediately. With a deep breath, he plunged into the memory.

* * *

It was a long hallway, but Harry spotted Sirius immediately. He was looking forlorn as…was that Bellatrix? Someone towered over him.

"Are you mad, Dromeda?" Sirius asked. He looked quite miserable.

Harry moved closer to. This must be the middle Black sister, Tonks's mom Andromeda.

"No," she said, smiling. "In fact I'm glad you were sorted into Gryffindor. There's hope for this family yet!"

Sirius chuckled a bit. "I have to go. I'll be late for Binns's lesson."

"See you, then."

Harry grinned as he followed the 11-year-old version of his godfather down the stairs. He'd never really pictured his godfather with short hair before. This was new….

As Sirius walked down the stairs, a boy and a girl were coming up holding hands. When Sirius passed between the boy and the wall, the boy reached out and shoved him into it. "Ow!" Sirius yelped, dropping his bag.

"Watch where you're going, blood traitor," the blonde boy said. Harry noticed the pointed nose and Slytherin tie.

"Now, Lucius," the girl said. "Behave. I suppose it's not _entirely _his fault he was sorted into Gryffindor."

Lucius Malfoy smirked. "Right. Oh, and I see Andromeda's giving me a look. Go distract your sister, won't you, Narcissa?" He moved walked dangerously close to Sirius, so that he was towering over him. "It's a shame you weren't in my house."

"I'm glad I'm not," Sirius said, and Harry beamed with pride. "With all the cologne you're wearing, it must smell horrible. I'd suffocate."

Lucius's sneer turned into a snarl. "Watch your step, first year. You don't want to end up like your blood traitor cousin, up there." He kicked at Sirius before continuing up the steps.

"Sirius?"

Harry whirled round to see his father.

James helped Sirius up. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing. Just a little run in with my _family_," Sirius explained. "I'm fine."

"Forget about him," James said. "Let's get to class."

The memory faded and Harry found himself back in Sirius's room. He smiled into the sink for a moment. Even though it hadn't been a grand memory, it had done a lot to comfort Harry. He filled the vial again and placed it in the cabinet. Closing it, he hummed to himself a little and made his way downstairs to find Tonks. He was suddenly very glad of his inheritance.


	3. Revelations

**Harry Potter and the Trail of Memories**

Harry walked into the Weasley's kitchen resolved on something. It had taken him a week to decide, but he knew what he wanted now. He wasn't going to let Sirius be one more adult that Voldemort had taken away from him. He was going to get to know his godfather, even if that meant having to rummage through his old memories. "Morning," he said, finding the Weasley parents and Tonks having breakfast.

"Morning, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "Sorry I can't stay. Have to run in to work today."

"You're up early today," Mrs. Weasley said, passing him a plate of eggs, tomatoes and toast.

"I have an errand to run with Tonks, and I wanted to be back in time to hang out with Ron and Hermione for the day."

"Wait, you do?" Tonks asked.

"Yeah, I need to go to Grimmauld Place."

"Why do you need to go to your house?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Er…" Harry thought quickly. He didn't really want everyone to know about his new project. "Mundungus has been stealing stuff," he said. It wasn't a lie yet. "I just want to pop in from time to time. It might spook him into not pinching everything that's not nailed down."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and sat down to finish her breakfast. From behind her, Tonks mouthed, "Liar, liar," at Harry.

* * *

"I'll be down here," Tonks said. "Just…be careful."

"I'm always careful," Harry said, grinning. He laughed at Tonks's expression of complete disbelief as he climbed the stairs. He went straight to the case of memories and looked through the titles. He picked the first one from the "Hogwarts- 2nd Year" shelf and dumped it into the Pensieve.

This time Sirius was alone. It was a good thing too, since he had a Howler screaming at him.

"…**YOU INSIST ON BRINGING SHAME TO THE BLACK NAME! WHETHER THIS SNAPE CHILD IS PUREBLOOD OR NOT REMAINS TO BE SEEN. HOWEVER, THE POINT IS THAT HE MADE SLYTHERIN, WHILE YOU DID NOT. YOU SHOULD HOPE THAT HE **_**IS**_** A PUREBLOOD. MY FURY WOULD BE INESCAPABLE IF YOU HAD BEEN BESTED BY A **_**MUDBLOOD**_**. YOU WILL FIND THIS SNAPE BOY AND APOLOGIZE! YOU WILL ATTEMPT TO BEFRIEND HIM, AND HOPEFULLY MAKE SOME MORE RESPECTABLE FRIENDS THROUGH HIM. I WILL KNOW IF THIS HAS NOT BEEN DONE!"**

Twelve year old Sirius sat shaking on his bed. He glared at the letter as it burned, and let its ashes fall to the floor. Grabbing his cape, he stormed out of the dorm.

Harry stood back in a hurry, before he remembered that Sirius couldn't bump into him in the memory. He followed his godfather down to the dungeons, noticing the subtle change that was taking place in the second year. When Sirius had been in the dorm, he'd seemed like any other kid. Now, as he made his way into Slytherin territory, he developed what Harry had come to think of as Malfoy's signature swagger. Clever, Harry supposed, since he so often had to fraternize with the enemy, so to speak. Harry followed as Sirius sauntered up to a skinny, shady looking boy. "Evening, Macnair. Do you know where Snape is?"

"What's it to you, traitor?" Macnair sneered. He withered under Sirius's steady, cold stare. "He's up in the library."

With a nod, Sirius turned and climbed the nearest set of stairs. He finally found Snape, but apparently couldn't bring himself to talk to the Slytherin. Instead, he slumped against the bookshelf that was hiding him. He watched Snape scribble furiously in a notebook for a few minutes.

A girl with red hair and green eyes walked up and sat across from Snape. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he moved from next to Sirius to go stand near his mother. He hoped Sirius wasn't about to leave.

"What are you writing, Severus?" Lily asked, reaching for the notebook.

"Nothing," Snape said quickly, pulling the book out of reach. "Homework."

"Really?" Lily asked, smiling. "You don't have any of your books open."

Snape mumbled something about writing from memory.

"You're writing poetry again, aren't you?" Lily asked.

"SHHHHHH!" Snape hissed, looking wildly around.

Harry fell to the ground, unable to believe what he'd just heard. He too, looked around, but Sirius was still well hidden. He thought he'd heard his godfather give a surprised gasp, though.

"Let me read it," Lily said.

"It's no good."

"Come on. You always let me read your poems."

Snape flushed a bit, but slid the notebook across to her. "Don't laugh at them, okay?"

"I never laugh."

Harry rushed through the table to look over his mom's shoulder.

_**The cauldron Bubbles dreamily**_

_**Through the Night waft **_

_**Aromas**_

_**Of change and Redemption.**_

_**I stir.**_

Harry was kneeling on the ground, laughing. He got back up as his mom turned to the next page.

_**beauty in a painful Cloud**_

_**Painful but not death filled Shroud**_

_**who could predict this Mistake**_

_**could make the dismal Boy proud?**_

Harry wandered back to Sirius. That couldn't be the end of the memory, since his mother hadn't read the poems out loud. Sirius could just be hanging around, in case she did, but he doubted it. Sure enough, he found Sirius being restrained by a twelve year old Remus. Unfortunately for Remus, Sirius broke his hold and waved his wand. Papers were lifted off all of the nearby tables and were flying through the air. He also through a few dungbombs into the corner. Harry watched him crawl up to the table, grab the book and crawl back. He and Remus took off as the Prefects restored order.

"Listen to this one," Sirius said. "_Watchful eyes, vials bloom. Liquid flowers fill the room. Some would mean death to taste. Others have life encased. One would mourn. This wondrous room lost to scorn._ He's got dozens of these!"

"You should give it back, Sirius," Remus said.

"After I'm done reading them. And laughing. And I have to show James."

Remus let out a huff.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked with a grin. "Sad for poor old, greasy Snivellus?"

"You could get in trouble for stealing. I overheard Macnair telling Lucius that you'd been looking for Snape, so you'll be the first suspect."

Sirius looked down at the book, clearly thinking about this point. "Fine. I'll give it back during Charms—when he won't notice me."

The memory faded. Harry stumbled back from the Pensieve, mind reeling. Snape. Wrote. Poetry.


	4. A Split

_**LbN: Implied squickiness in this chapter. If the idea of Bella/Narcissa freaks you out, don't read this. Or the next chapter, for that matter...**_

***Malfoy Manor: August 31***

A fire crackled in the grate. Two blondes sat playing cards.

"Do remember to behave, darling," Narcissa said.

"Of course, Mother. Wait…." Draco trailed off, glancing at the Ministry's letter. He'd been looking at it, trying to figure out a loophole that meant he didn't have to give anything up to Potter. "When you say 'behave'…"

"You know the proper way to act around purebloods. _All_ purebloods—"

"He's not even a pureblood!"

"He is honorary since he inherited a pureblood estate."

"So I'm supposed to treat him as an _equal_?"

Narcissa got an angry, almost pained, look on her face.

"What?" Draco asked quietly, expecting the worst.

"As you very well know, my side of the family, the Blacks, is ancient. We trace our lineage back before the time of Merlin himself. As for the Potters…well, until James Potter married Lily Evans, they were an ancient pureblood family too. More ancient, even, than the name you carry."

"What's the point?" Draco wailed, near hysteria.

"As the heir to these estates, Potter is, technically, your superior."

Draco fell from his chair to the floor, sobbing. Half a dozen house elves ran into the room—one with some hot coco, one with a small cake. Another had Draco's favorite blanket, one came with a toy train, one with a sketch book and pencils, and the last carried a bag of Galleons. The all clamored to cheer their young mast up, letting out a stream of encouragement toward their gifts.

"Here, Mast Malfoy."

"Have your Blanky, Master Malfoy."

A hot drink would make Master Malfoy feel much better."

Draco was quite inconsolable. After about ten minutes, he collected himself to take the proffered cake and sit back at the table with his mother.

Narcissa, used to Draco's tantrums, had been reading quietly as her son got the tears out of his system. "Better?" she questioned.

"No," Draco mumbled, sniffing. "But at least Potter's dense. He's such an ignorant mudblood that he won't know anything about his rank. I won't have to take orders from him."

* * *

***September 1***

Harry sat back in his seat, nettled at his friends' attitudes. He couldn't believe they weren't taking him seriously.

Hermione noticed his sour mood and smirked. "You're right to be worried about Malfoy, but you're worrying about the wrong thing."

"What do you mean?"

"I figured you wouldn't dig too deeply into your new status and, quite frankly, I don't blame you. However, I was a little curious, so I ordered a few books from Flourish and Blotts."

"And?" Harry asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"Pureblood genealogy has a bit of a hierarchy to it," Hermione explained. "Pureblood social custom states that there are certain codes of behavior based on family status and history—"

"Hermione, you lost me at 'pureblood genealogy'," Ron said. "Could you please get to the part that has to do with Harry?"

Hermione glared at him, but acquiesced. "Technically, Draco should have to answer to you."

"WHAT?" both boys yelped.

"That's what I was _trying _to explain," Hermione huffed. "Even though Draco's older, Harry's title is more powerful—because he's the head of two estates, both of which are older than the Malfoy estate."

Both boys were silent for a moment, then Harry jumped up and dove for the door.

"Wait!" Hermione said. "What are you doing?"

"Going to cash in on this gift the universe just handed me," Harry said, grinning.

"Harry, you can't be serious—"

"Hermione," Ron said urgently. "When you have an opportunity like this, you don't just say, 'No thanks, I'll take the high road'."

"I told you because I thought it would give you a laugh," Hermione argued. "Not because I thought you'd do anything. Do you actually want to follow a rule Voldemort would support?"

This stopped Harry in his tracks. He looked down at his shoes, thinking, weighing his options. Then he looked at Ron, and back to Hermione. "Just this once," he said, and grinning, made his way into the hall.

Ron let out a yell of laughter and ran after him. "Public humiliation or are you going to ask to talk to him?"

"Don't know, we'll see," Harry said.

As they walked through the next compartment of the train, they heard Tonks's voice and stopped.

"…why Dumbledore's making us stay together."

"Because you're stationed at Hogwarts, and we're around the same age. He probably thought you'd drive McGonagall nuts. I agree."

"Eurgh, you're such a smug bastard!"

"Look who's talking, you pompous asshole!"

Harry and Ron walked away quickly.

"Why don't they like each other?" Ron mused aloud.

"No idea. There's Draco…." Harry caught the blonde's eye and thought he detected a hint of panic. The next second, it was gone. "Morning, cousin," he said, deciding on "public humiliation".

"I'm not your cousin," Draco snapped. "What do you want, Potter?"

"When the trolley comes around, buy a few pumpkin cakes for me. We're two compartments up."

Draco sputtered as the rest of his Slytherin gang stared, open-mouthed, at Harry and Ron.

"Thank you, cousin."

* * *

Harry felt his nose gingerly. He'd paid dearly for his trick and his spying. As he walked up to the school with Tonks, he thought of something. "Tonks, why were you still on the train?"

She pulled her coat around her and mumbled something about losing track of time.

"Wait…is that a hickey?" Harry asked, startled. "Were you and—"

"Here we are!" Tonks said loudly.

Harry never got to finish his question, as he was passed off to Snape at that moment.

* * *

The Room of Requirement was officially Harry's favorite room. Unable to sleep, he'd taken one of Sirius's memories to the room, hoping for a Pensieve. He poured the memory in and began watching.

Sirius, now with proper long hair, was sitting in a fire and candle-lit parlor. He looked bored with the party that was going on, but he smiled brightly as an elderly old man hobbled toward him. "Hello, Uncle Alphard," he said, courteously pulling out a chair for the man.

"Young Sirius," the man said, nodding as if he'd just decided that this was the right name for his nephew. "School going well?"

"Wonderfully. How's your back?"

"The same—evil and stubborn. Not unlike some of our family members, yes."

Sirius laughed. "Yes, Uncle. I suppose the two of us can't completely escape our family's psychoses—they rub off on you. For you it's your back."

"What is it for you?"

Sirius paused. "Don't know quite yet."

"Well," his uncle said, eyes twinkling. "I harbor the hope that you will be perfect. Your younger brother, on the other hand…well, I've officially lost hope for him."

At that moment, a man tapped his glass with a spoon, calling for attention. It had to be Sirius's dad—he looked just like him. "I want to take this moment to congratulate Regulus for his dedication to the cause. Son, I was never one to heap praise on you and your brother, but I must confess I was never more proud than the day you came to us with your intentions of taking the Mark."

Harry saw Sirius roll his eyes. He jumped as he noticed the woman walking toward their corner.

It was Sirius's mom—only not the demented version of the picture. This woman was the poster child of pureblood elegance. "Sirius," she said. "You will make a speech for your brother after your father is finished."

"No," Sirius said, calmly and firmly. It was a tone that suggested that all discussion on the topic was closed.

His mom's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not happy for him, I don't think he's doing the right thing, and I don't particularly fancy the thought of my brother getting killed because he's a coward. I won't make a speech."

His mother got a very nasty look on her face. "Fine. I'm tired of fighting you. Leave now. I don't want you causing a scene."

Sirius looked quite happy to comply with that. He shook his uncle's hand, wished him a good night, and made his way through the room and up the stairs. He walked up to his room, loosening his tie as he went. When he got to his landing, he reached out for the door handle, but paused. There were noises coming from the room next to his. He crept toward the door, a confused look plastered on his face. Pushing the door open, he (and Harry) looked in.

Harry stumbled away, retching.

Sirius really did throw up. He didn't have a chance to recover, though, because Bellatrix (still naked) pulled him into the room.

Harry followed, but closed his eyes. He opened them when he was sure he had his back to Bellatrix and Narcissa.

"LET GO OF ME!" Sirius hollered.

"Shut up," Bellatrix snarled.

"LET GO!" Sirius struggled away from her. He stumbled out the door and into his room. He stumbled around blindly for a moment, still retching and tearing at his hair.

Harry didn't blame him. He could've lived a happy life without seeing Bellatrix naked, let alone Bellatrix naked with her sister.

His godfather was now throwing things into a bag. When he was finished with the rucksack, he started chucking books and clothes into his school trunk. He grabbed both items and pulled the roughly out of the room.

Bellatrix (now, thankfully, clothed) blocked his path. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," Sirius barked. "I've had enough. Move." He pushed past her and sent his trunk sliding and bumping down the stairs. As he passed the party, his brother came rushing out.

"Where are you going?" Regulus asked, putting a hand on Sirius's shoulder.

"Don't. Touch. Me," Sirius said through gritted teeth. "I'm going. I can't take this anymore."

Harry followed him out to the curb, where Sirius flagged the Knight Bus. "5830 Merlin Alley," he mumbled, as Ernie Prang welcomed him aboard.

Less than five minutes later, Harry was gazing at his father's childhood home. He watched Sirius knock and stand back as Mr. Potter answered the door.

"Sirius?" Harry's grandfather said. "What are you doing out in the cold? Come in."

Sirius stepped over the threshold as James came running down the stairs.

"Padfoot?"

"Can I stay here for a while?" Sirius mumbled.

Harry's dad looked at Grandpa Potter. The older man regarded Sirius for a moment, before nodding. "Of course you can. James, help him with his trunk."

The memory ended there. Harry, emotions racing, put the memory back into the bottle and made his way back to Gryffindor tower.

**_LbN: Hope you liked it! Send reviews!_**


	5. An End

_**LbN: If you get squicked by the mention of Blackcest, don't read this chapter. If you're really into Blackcest, don't get your hopes up too high :). I left some to the imagination...**_

Something about learning the History of Voldemort wasn't exactly conducive to a good night's sleep. After tossing and turning, he sat up and quietly located his shoes. Grabbing his invisibility cloak and one of the vials he'd brought from Sirius' house, he crept out of the dorm. The common room was empty, save for two house elves who were tidying up. He bypassed them easily, and made his way into the corridor.

* * *

This vial was different. Harry turned it over in his hand as he sat on the couch the Room of Requirement had provided. He was a little worried about what he would see, and for the first time, he was seriously considering heeding Tonks's advice and putting the memory back. It was definitely from Sirius' Azkaban years—the date on the bottle told him that much. But it hadn't been in chronological order, like the rest of the memories—it had been at the back of the cabinet. Harry told himself that this was just because it was bigger than the rest, but somehow the size of the memory worried him to.

"I'm being stupid," he said. "It's just a memory."

He poured it into the Pensieve and entered it.

The cell was mostly dark, but there was a bit of light streaming in from one of the windows. Underneath it, a man sat next to a pile of papers. Harry recognized his godfather immediately, even though Sirius looked completely different than any other time Harry had seen him. He was thin—terribly thin—and his hair and beard were scraggly and gray. He sat, staring into nothing, as Dementors swooped around outside the cell.

The silence was eerie. Three other prisoners lay still in the cell, and the only noise was the _swoosh _of the Dementors' cloaks. Harry was tense, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. He walked over to his godfather. The man had a small, messy of yellowing papers next to him, along with one or two newer ones. Harry realized, with a pang of sadness, that all of the older papers were from his birthday. Each one read "July 31", as did the one his godfather was currently holding, but not looking at. Harry squinted to see the full date in the darkness—July 31, 1987. He was about to sit down when something moved to his right.

Bellatrix Lestrange moved into the light. "Sirius," she cooed. "Sirius _Black_."

Sirius gave an almost imperceptible flinch, but stayed silent.

"Oh," Bellatrix said with a mock pout, "I'm sorry. I forgot. You want to be Sirius Potter…."

"His birthday…" Sirius muttered. "His birthday. Harry's. Seven. Seven candles. His birthday…" He sounded hollow, defeated…and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that his godfather was trying to keep from throttling Bellatrix….

"Don't be sad, little Sirius," Bellatrix said. She crawled over as much as her chains would allow. "Bella's here."

"Harry…his birthday…"

"We can be a family again." She reached out and ran a hand through his dirty hair.

Harry watched, open mouthed, as Sirius did not pull away. The memory faded, and a new one began. Harry understood now—this was a series of memories. He looked around the cell.

Sirius, it seemed, had come to his senses a bit. He was huddled as far away from Bellatrix as he could get, and glaring in her direction.

Bellatrix was undeterred. "I can't help you if you sit so far away," she said.

"Help me?" Sirius spat. "Since when have you ever cared about helping me?"

"That's all I've ever wanted," she said in an urgent whisper, trying to move closer to Sirius. "Sit closer."

Sirius didn't move, but Harry saw that he'd lost his scowl.

"I've always wanted to help you—to teach you how to be a good pureblood son."

"The way you 'taught' Narcissa?" Sirius asked, voice full of contempt.

Bellatrix smiled. She almost looked beautiful again at the mention of her sister. It didn't last, as Dementors began crowding around their cell. "You shouldn't sneer, little Sirius. I saw the way you used to look at me. The way you looked at me that night."

The memory faded. Harry was left in complete darkness for a moment. He squinted, and could just make out his godfather's form lying on the ground. Someone was kneeling beside him. Again the room was silent. Harry took a few steps closer, and saw that the kneeling figure was, of course, Bellatrix. He could see his godfather shaking a bit, but the man wasn't pulling away.

Once more, everything went hazy for a moment as the memory changed. It was daytime now, and the cell was empty except for Bellatrix and Sirius. Bellatrix was standing up beside him, laughing madly about something, and Sirius was glowering at her.

"It's a shame you didn't stick around to the end of the party," she said, grinning. "Poor Regulus…it was all I could do to comfort him…"

"Shut. Up." Sirius said.

"But then, you were always so selfish. You never cared one bit about the family. You and Andromeda—always denying yourselves. Even when you were calling Regulus' name out in your sleep, you still—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Sirius roared, jumping to his feet.

"Temper. I see why they call you a murderer."

Sirius grabbed Bellatrix around the throat and shoved her against the grimy wall. Before Harry registered what was about to happen, Sirius had leaned into Bellatrix and kissed her, hard. They broke apart a few seconds later. "I am _**not **_a murderer," he growled.

Bellatrix smiled again. "There's my little Sirius."

Harry retched as they began kissing again. He needed to leave—had to leave—but he couldn't look away. He watched, horror-struck, as they continued to kiss. He watched as Bellatrix's hand snaked down into Sirius' thin trousers. He watched as they lowered themselves to the floor, chains rattling. Harry could see that Sirius wasn't going to stop this—on the contrary, he looked to be enjoying himself. When he saw his godfather begin to suck fiercely at Bellatrix's nipple, Harry decided he'd officially seen enough. He pulled himself out of the memory and kicked the Pensieve's stand over. It went clattering across the floor—the memory evaporating into the air. Good. He never wanted to see that again.

Shuddering, and close to tears, he grabbed his invisibility cloak, and left the Room of Requirement. He was done. Tonks was right- he should've left the memories alone. If Sirius had been alive, there may have come a day when he explained things to Harry. Explained the insanity, explained his life. But he wasn't there. And now, all Harry had was that picture etched into his memory. No explanation, and no Sirius. Sirius, as he had known him, was gone. As he walked back to Gryffindor tower, Harry prayed with all his might that Voldemort's trail of memories would actually lead to something good.

_**Fin**_

__


End file.
